


Shatter

by Mike_Remington_Hanson



Series: MadaTobi Week [23]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 09:15:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21224195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mike_Remington_Hanson/pseuds/Mike_Remington_Hanson
Summary: Prompt:Something kinky(fromMadaTobi Week 2019).





	Shatter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaiyaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiyaru/gifts).

> Prompt: _Something kinky_ (from **[MadaTobi Week 2019](https://madatobiweek.tumblr.com/post/182718063236/madatobi-week-2019)**).

The floor is cold. Hard and painful beneath his knees. His hands, bound behind his back. Rope cuts cruelly into the soft skin of his wrists. His shoulders ache from the strain.

The dark cloth over his eyes is mocking in its gentleness. Madara is keenly aware of its smoothness over his eyelids, his temples, his cheeks.

And Tobirama.

The scent of him, clean and virile. It is in every inhale. In the heat that blooms within Madara's chest, fills his lungs where air used to be.

Tobirama is so close, Madara can taste him. Wants to. _Needs_ to taste him. He leans forward but Tobirama catches him. Rough fingered grip beneath his chin, tilting upward. "Such a pretty face," Tobirama says. His voice is velvet-smooth. Animalistic. It fills the room, like his scent, his touch, his presence. His thumb caresses the corner of Madara's mouth. Smooths over his lower lip.

Madara shudders. His lips part.

Tobirama's chuckle is dark. Dangerous. "So eager," he says, in a voice that makes Madara keenly aware of the cold air upon his heated skin. The rough fibers of the rope. His cock, hard and wet, untouched.

Tobirama's hand on the back of his head. It rests there, unguiding. "Come," he commands and Madara follows.

He leans forward till his mouth meets hot flesh. Here, the hard line of Tobirama's Adonis belt. He works his way downward. The masculine scent of Tobirama's cock. The familiar hardness of it, against his cheek.

Madara kisses his way to the tip, lips parting around the flared head. Tobirama's precum smearing his lips. The taste of him, blossoming upon his tongue. Like skin. Like _sin._

Madara slides his mouth along Tobirama's cock. Down, down, down, till he feels the soft skin of Tobirama's balls against his lower lip. Tobirama's sharp inhale is loud. Present. Madara feels his cock pulse. Tobirama's hand, fisting his hair.

He pulls away, hollowing his cheeks as he goes. He withdraws till he's only got Tobirama's cockhead in his mouth. Then he slides back down, slowly.

This rhythm. It is a dance. It's desperation coiled tight within his belly, his straining shoulders, his aching knees.

It feels like time itself has slowed. Tobirama does not say much. His groans are quiet. His hand is a tight fist in Madara's hair. Madara alternately sucks and licks, slow at first, then quicker.

It is sensual as it is obscene. He feels so vulnerable, blind and desperate, unable to hold onto Tobirama's hips, to jerk himself off, to feel him with anything but his mouth.

Tobirama's cock. Madara is too aware of it. The heat of his silky skin. The thick vein along his shaft. His girth. His length. The salty taste of his precum.

The head of that cock in the back of Madara's throat. The sensation of it, deep inside him. It makes Madara moan, this loud, wanton thing, this wordless begging.

Tobirama's hips snap forward. His grip in Madara's hair tightens. Still, he does not guide.

The blindfold is uncomfortably damp against Madara's sweat-slick skin. His arms are going numb. His neck is strained. His jaw hurts. And still, he can't get enough. He deep-throats Tobirama, cheeks hollowed and flushed. Drool leaks from the corners of his mouth. Hot sting of tears behind his eyelids. His own cock, throbbing desperately. He wants and _wants._

He can feel Tobirama's gaze upon him. This heavy, penetrating thing. Sharp. Intense. A voyeur to his abasement. Madara feels pinned beneath the dark weight of it.

It is deeply arousing. Heat unfurls within his belly. He tightens his lips around the base of Tobirama's shaft. Swallows hard.

And Tobirama comes. His hips lurching. His voice is a low growl, dark and hungry. Fingers digging harshly into Madara's scalp.

It is enough to drive Madara over the edge. The tightness in his belly. The twitch of his balls. The pulse of his cock. Madara comes with a cry that's muffled around Tobirama. A sound, raw and broken, upon his lips.


End file.
